


The life of a male feminist

by Anonymous



Category: Feminism RPF, Original Work
Genre: Anti-feminism, Equality, Feminism, Feminist Themes, Social Justice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 14:34:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13168959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The daily struggles that a privileged ally has to endure.





	The life of a male feminist

He was skinny, short, meek, had terrible social skills, the sight of a remotely attractive female  would instantly harden his virgin penis and accelerate his heartbeat to the point of hyperventilation.

He was pretty much what most people on the alt-right would call a «cuck» or «beta male». In this case, they would actually be completely right. Mathew Macgorry was the very embodiment of a pathetic, self-loathing male feminist stereotype. 

Social justice ran through his veins. He saw something problematic in everything, no matter how trivial or insignificant. And I mean LITERALLY everything. Just like one time he went to the beach (by himself, because he’s a sad loser, with the purpose of secretly masturbating to women on bikinis) and saw a friend of his there, who had gotten a slight tan, due to sun exposure. Thing is, just like himself, that friend was white, and seeing him one shade darker caused him to burst into tears.

Why? Because in Mathew’s opinion, his friend had practiced severe cultural appropriation. The mere thought of being near someone who had committed the atrocious act of appropriating the skin colour of black people, a race that suffers tremendously and should be given literally anything and everything owned by white people, triggered him to no end.

Since there were no safe spaces nearby, he acted like the shameful beta male he was and yelled «APOLOGIZE, YOU RACIST SCUM!!» with red, puffy eyes and a cracking voice. Naturally, his friend did what most people would do and kicked his ugly ass. And then shat on his mouth, while everyone around them laughed and cheered.

Normally, bystanders would help, or at least intervene in some way, but Mathew had such a punchable face, that nobody gave a flying fuck. Also because he was a dude (it was hard to tell, but he was). In fact, some of the bystanders helped his attacker, by stomping Mathew’s scrawny body and shitting on it afterwards.

(He would never admit this to anyone, but being hurt and humiliated turned him on).

But Mathew was trying to change. There was this purple haired, hairy, chubby, filled with piercings, feminist white friend he was trying to have a romantic relationship with. He was sick of pleasuring himself with regular pictures of her on facebook, and was trying to muster up all the limited courage he possessed to pursue the real deal.

There she was, in a feminist art gallery, contemplating the deep, thought-inducing meaning of some random shitty portrait painted with period blood, that possessed such little artistic skill or talent that any 5 year old autistic kid with brain damage could do the same using only canvas and a trashcan full of used tampons.

Before he approached her, he looked at his reflection in a dirty spoon he carries on his pocket at all times, to check if his appearance was remotely acceptable. He sported a short layer of facial hair (typical of a 13 year old), the tightest skinny jeans he found and a hipster chess v-neck shirt.

If objects had life, the spoon would have tried to drink bleach, but fail because the bleach would have drunk itself first.

That’s when he did the least pussy-like thing in his life and moved his shrugged, trembling body in her direction.

“Um... H-Hi there, M-Malina...” he stuttered nervously, with a fitting high-pitched voice.

“Oh my God! I was feasting my eyes on, like, the purest form of intersectional feminism I have, like, ever like seen in my life. And then you come here and taint my oppressed eyes with the sight of a straight, white, able-bodied cis male? HAVE YOU ANY IDEA HOW OFFENSIVE AND PROBLEMATIC YOUR ACTIONS ARE?” she roared before punching his nose and kicking his tiny testicles.

He whined and cried on the floor while he rolled, waiting for the pain to subside.

“Oh my God! And now you’re minimizing the struggles of women with your male tears? Fuck you, Mathew!” she yelled before lowering her pants, adopt a squatting position and shitting on his hideous face.

This did nothing to stop Mathew from chasing Malina’s pussy, however. In fact, that only made his raging boner harder, because he was coprophilic. Fortunately, it was impossible to notice, since his puny dick was smaller than the average SJW brain (okay, maybe this is not a good analogy, because Mathew’s penis actually existed).

“I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry! Please forgive me! Forgive my existence! I’ll kill myself if you want!” he moaned as he knelt on the art gallery’s dirty floor (the Mexican janitor was not on her shift yet) and his pummelled nose produced shameful quantities of mucus.

“Oh, you think, like, wallowing in your male fragility will compensate, like, the centuries of historical oppression that women like myself had and have to endure by your oppressive kin? And you call yourself a feminist?” she hollered as she kicked his miniscule, aroused sexual organ. “I don’t have the moral duty to educate you, but if you want, like, actually contributing for like, the feminist movement, than you should know that you should, like, pay reparations, instead of waving around the feminist flag like you deserve a prize for being a decent person.”

“O-Of course! Here... H-Have all my money! T-Take it!” he smiled of relief when he saw that he still had a chance to score and quickly handed over all the money he had on his wallet.

She rudely snatched the money out of his sweaty hands and contemplated it with a disgusted face.

“The fuck?! 50 dollars is all you have to give for the feminist movement?” she hissed.

“I’m so very sorry! But this feminist art gallery charged me extra for entering because I was white and male.” he whined as he released water out of his eyes like hoses.

“Was that a microaggression towards women of colour? Are you invalidating their struggles, you sack of shit?!” she yelled as she shot fire of her hairy nostrils.

“No! No! I swear, I didn’t mean to-”

“Stop mansplaining, you sick fuck! Oh my God, I’m like, so triggered right now. Your offensiveness just triggered my self-diagnosed anxiety disorder and PTSD. I need a safe space! I was just harassed by a white male!” she cried and screamed as she ran to the security.

He was still in a kneeling position while she ran. Therefore, despite the terrible outcome of his advances, he still managed to get a good look of her flat ass, meaning he was gonna masturbate SO MUCH that night.

“This is the straight, white, able-bodied cis male that harassed me!” Malina pointed a tenacious finger at Mathew when she called for a security guard.

The security guard was a VERY angry looking and bulky black woman.

“Fucking coward! How dare you harass a woman, you pussy! Don’t you know that men can’t harass women? We are all equal!” the brawny lady hollered with a low pitched voice.

“Wait, what? You’re implying that women deserve extra protection, due to the physical superiority of men, but then you claim that both genders are equal? And you’re calling me a pussy! Aren’t feminists against those derogatory terms?” he protested with holy water for feminists: logic.

“Stop making sense, scum! Your rationality is oppressing! And how dare you say «both genders»?!” the security guard yelled furiously before effortlessly grabbing his greasy neck and pulling his up.

“This is for harassing a woman!” she shouted before hitting his brutalized penis with all the strength she had with her knee. “This is for thinking logically!” she hit him again. “This is for being transphobic!” she hit him again. “This is for being straight!” she hit him again. “This is for being white!” she hit him again. “This is for being able-bodied!” she hit him again. “This is for being cisgendered!” she hit him again. “AND THIS IS FOR BEING MALE!” she hit him with an uppercut to his groin so hard that he was sent flying to the roof.

When he fell to the ground. Both ladies still weren’t satisfied.

“He hasn’t suffered enough! I don’t care if his actions were innocuous, he belongs to superficial groups that don’t determine his character whatsoever and have nothing to do with him as an individual, that I deem oppressive and toxic, purely because the media told me so with no substantial evidence to back it up. Which means we have to punish him even more.” the muscular black woman growled hoarsely with eyes like slits.

“I agree! Let’s shit on him!” Malina suggested as she pulled a couple of laxatives our of her purse.

They took it, removed their pants, aimed their buttholes at him and waited for the effect to come.

Like the good male feminist he was, he allowed the women to express their desires without protesting.

After a while, they proceeded to bury Mathew with tons and tons of the brownest, smelliest, disease infest shit ever. Those two women alone put the streets of India to shame.

“Holy fuck! And now you’re doing blackface? Do you ever learn?” Malina spat as she threw a lighter and a bottle of vodka (she has one all the time, because no real man wants to fuck her) at the pile of shit, setting it on fire.

“Oh my God!” some random bitch who appeared out of nowhere gasped. “What you 2 ladies have just done far surpassed all my period paintings! The meaning behind this work of art is astounding! The various shades of brown is a metaphor for intersectional feminism and the fact that it is made of shit breaks patriarchal norms, such as the notion that women should be ladylike and take care of their hygiene. Congratulations! Here are 1 million dollars for each of you for this masterpiece in my art gallery.” she pulled two briefcases overflowing with 500 dollar bills out of her ass and handed over to them.

“Thanks! But wait, what am I gonna do with so much cash?” the security guard asked.

“Let’s lick each other’s pussies and scissor!” Malina suggested once again excitedly.

“Great idea! God, you’re so smart! No wonder you’re taking women studies in college!”

And thus, Mathew was placed in the art gallery inside the giant mass of shit where no one could see or hear him.

Will he be able to escape? Will he be able to finally get laid? Only one thing’s for certain, feminism is far from being logically coherent.

**Author's Note:**

> In case you didn't notice, this is parody lol. I'm not sure if I'll post more chapters, maybe I will... Tell me what you thought


End file.
